Fast and Loose (23 page)

“You didn't . . .”

“See ya, Abner.”

“Well, I'll be damned!” Abner slugged back the rest of the root beer and headed for the bedroom. He hit the shower, lathered up in lavender suds, washed his hair with lavender shampoo, then dried off with a lavender-scented towel before he hit the bed, which smelled like Isabelle and lavender.

Abner could have sworn that he heard someone whisper, “Sweet dreams,” before he fell into a deep, restful sleep that lasted fourteen hours.

Chapter 21

T
he guys went at it tooth and nail, with everyone having a different opinion as to how to handle the situation, which had gotten so off the rails. Even Cyrus couldn't seem to make up his mind whose ideas he should endorse with his one-vote bark.

Jack took the floor and held up both hands for attention. “Hear me out here, please. This is how I think we have to look at things right now, at this moment in time. I have lost track of the texts and calls I've placed to Dixson Kelly. He has not responded to any of them. Nor has he responded to Bert. I think that pretty much tells us he has no intention of cooperating and that he
knows
what is going on.

“Right now we do not know where he is for certain, although we think he's at his own condo. While we think he went to his condo in town, and the sister we didn't know he had went to the condo Maggie discovered she had in town, neither of those suppositions is carved in stone. It is at least possible that when Maggie did not show up for dessert, they decided to leave and are at some airport right now. Ten minutes ago, I sent off a text to Pete Justice, who, if he is telling the truth, has not heard from Kelly, either. He asked me what was going on. I told him I would get back to him. Bert told him via a text that he was the man in charge for now, and he was relieving Kelly of all his duties. That's what we
know for certain
. We have to decide what to do and do it quickly.” Jack directed his attention to Maggie and asked her what she had.

Maggie looked around at the gang, each one of whom looked like he was about to hang on every word that came out of her mouth. “Not much, but something. Clare Andreas, aka Kitty Passion, shares the condo she has in town with an airline stewardess named Sabrina Abernathy. The only name on the deed and the mortgage is Abernathy's, not Passion or Andreas. The condo is for sale at a greatly reduced price . . . for a quick sale. I checked Abernathy's Facebook page, and there was a lot of stuff on it, girl stuff, but at her age, which, if she is telling the truth, is thirty-five, you'd think she'd be a little more circumspect.

“First of all, she is a Brit. Divides her time between here and London. Said she broke up with her gal pal a while back and put her home up for sale to get out from under. The Facebook post does not name Kitty/Clare. I am assuming Kitty/Clare is the gal pal. Said she served an eviction notice on Kitty/Clare. Her last posting was yesterday, about eighteen hours ago, when she announced she would be flying the London to Hong Kong route from now on. The last thing she said on her post was she was sorry she had blinders on and she was so very sad that people—I guess she meant Kitty/ Clare—were so ruthless. That's it.”

“So are we saying Kitty is staying in the condo illegally?” Fergus asked. “After she was evicted?”

“I have no idea. I would guess she has a key. Maybe she returned there tonight to pack up her stuff. Maybe she's moving in with her brother. I don't know,” Maggie said.

“We would have that information if you hadn't called us back here,” Dennis said. “We should go there now and pick her up. She's probably in for the night.”

“Or getting ready to take it on the lam with her brother, if that hasn't already happened, seeing as how he isn't here at Babylon, either,” Ted said. “Every minute we sit here sucking our thumbs is a minute they can use to head for the hills. They have to know we know something. Don't think for one minute one of those showgirls or some of them that weren't rounded up have not been in touch with someone. You know how women like to stick together. No offense, Maggie. It's just a pure fact, and us guys have to live with it.”

Sparrow held his arm up for attention, a fierce look on his face. “Oh, man, you guys are
not
going to like hearing the text I just got.”

Cyrus barked to show he was in agreement even before he knew what he was agreeing to.

“What?” Harry growled. When Harry growled, people invariably paid attention. People even paid attention when Harry whispered.

“Those women we're holding—they're all represented by the same law firm.”

“Director, you did say, did you not, that you could hold those women for seventy-two hours without benefit of counsel?” Charles said, his voice dangerously cold at what he was hearing.

“It's true, but as we said earlier, a few of the women could have evaded our net when we swooped in. Being women, they did what they had to do—call their lawyers. The group's attorneys—that's plural—just showed up ten minutes ago at the field office, breathing fire and brimstone. You know what this town is like. These people take care of their own, and let me tell you, those women have the best of the best. By morning, this will be a goddamned circus,” Director Sparrow said.

“What law firm is it?” Jack asked, virtually certain that he knew the answer even before he asked the question.

Cyrus yipped to back up his master's question.

“Lizzie Fox represents half of them, and Cosmo Cricket, her husband, represents the other half.”

Cyrus was so devastated at the news, he covered his face with both paws as the others cursed out loud at this revolting turn of events.

Jack drew a deep breath. When he finally expelled the air, it sounded like a gunshot. He looked at his watch. “I don't see any solution other than to pick up Kelly and the sister, if they haven't already left. The question is, where to take them if we're successful?”

“How about that room at MGM that the girls comped for me?” Maggie said. “Mr. Snowden gave me both key cards. He said there is a sitting room, kind of like here in this suite, so the room should accommodate all of us. I can leave now and head to MGM to wait for you.”

“Sparrow and I will take Kelly, assuming he's at his condo,” Jack said. “Harry, you and Dennis pick up the sister. Snowden, split up your team, with half as backup for me and Sparrow and the other half as backup for Harry and Dennis. Charles, you, Fergus, Ted, and Espinosa be our lookouts at MGM. Hit the casino floor and keep your eyes on the main door. Maggie, of course, will be waiting at the room. Our mass departure from here will
not
go unnoticed. Everyone clear on their positions?”

Cyrus reared up and let loose with an unholy bark. He scratched frantically at the carpet, growling deep in his throat.

“I didn't forget you, big guy. I know you want to bite someone on the ass, and you will get that opportunity, I promise. You're going with Charles and the guys.”

Cyrus ran to the door and waited even before Jack was finished with his monologue.

The gang left one by one, with Charles and the boys the last to walk through the door. Charles fastened the leash to Cyrus's collar. “Let's be clear, Cyrus. You do not bite anyone's arse until we give the okay. You understand?”

Cyrus yipped once to show he got it.

It was almost midnight when the crew took to the street. Inside the casino, where there were no clocks, the gaming was in full swing, with blinding neon lights, along with the shrieking bells and whistles and a few shouts from hysterical winners. For all the gamblers knew, it could be four o'clock in the afternoon, as far as they were concerned. Outside, it was a different matter. The crowds on the streets had thinned considerably, mostly due to the light, chilly, misty spring rain that was falling. People did not want to be wet and cold while sitting on a stool in an air-conditioned casino, even if they were winning.

The chilly mist didn't bother Jack or Sparrow as they half jogged and half ran, because both men were extremely physically fit. It took them only twenty minutes to reach Dixson Kelly's condo. They were barely panting when they stood to the side to stare up at all the lighted windows.

Jack looked out at the mess of traffic on the street, mostly taxis, clogging the street. “Good thing we decided to hoof it, or we'd still be sitting out there, cursing the driver.”

“I could never live here,” Sparrow said.

“Me either. Cyrus wouldn't like it. He hates concrete. He likes green grass and trees.”

“Me too.” Sparrow laughed.

“Doorman building. How do you want to play this?”

Sparrow laughed out loud. “This badge gets me in anywhere I want to go. Just follow me.”

“I'll need to see your key card, gentlemen, before I can open the door,” the doorman said politely and respectfully when the duo approached him.

“Will this do, young man?” Sparrow said, whipping out his ID.

“I believe so, sir. Anything I can do for you? Is there going to be any trouble? This is a family building.”

“I certainly hope not. Wait, there is one thing you can do. Have a taxi waiting with the motor running. Can you do that?”

The doorman's eyes were wide as saucers when he said, “I believe so, sir.”

“Do not use your cell phone until I tell you to. We clear on that?”

“I believe so, sir. I mean, yes, sir. You have made yourself crystal clear. I will not use my cell phone.”

“Good! Good! I'll be sure to give you a glowing report. Now, please, open the door. By the way, how many of the tenants returned in the past few hours? Any strangers or anyone with the tenants you didn't recognize?”

“Not many. No, no strangers. It's a slow night. The people who live in this building are not gamblers. Well, maybe they are to a certain extent, but what I meant was they come home at night, like other people with regular jobs. Let's see . . . Who came in? The Ellisons around nine thirty. They were out to dinner. Mrs. Ellison isn't much of a cook, according to Mr. Ellison. John Stephens came in with his suitcases. He was away on a business trip.

“Then the two architects came in a little while ago. They were arguing about something that went wrong on a project. Then Mr. Kelly came in all in a lather, huffing and puffing, and didn't even say good evening. That's not like him, and he is never here, anyway. Once in a blue moon. Oh, yeah. The Olivers, with their four kids, came in right after Mr. Kelly. One of the kids had a recital, and then they stopped for ice cream. That's why they were so late coming home. Tenants like to chat. That's it so far.”

“Have any of the tenants left the building in the past hour and a half?”

“No, sir. Like I said, it's a slow night.”

“Okay, you can open the door now. Have that cab ready.”

“Yes, sir. You got it, sir.” The doorman opened the plate-glass door with a flourish. Sparrow and Jack stepped through.

“That was almost too easy,” Jack said.

“He didn't say Kelly went back out, so that has to mean he's still up there in his condo. What do you suppose he's doing?” Sparrow asked.

“A wild guess on my part would be he's packing. I think he knows we're onto him. Then again, maybe the guy is just sitting there, waiting for us, with some cockamamie story to try out on us.”

“What do we do if he doesn't open the door? This is your show. I'm just along for the ride,” Sparrow said.

“I remember Snowden saying the only way out was through the front door. I can pick a lock with the best of them. But first we knock. The only thing I'm having a problem with is, what if he calls the sister and alerts her before Harry and Dennis get there? Hell, he might have already done that. It's also possible that he's going to take the fall all by himself and let her get off scot-free. You know, big brother stuff.”

“No, I'm not buying that one. A stretch in the federal pen is serious stuff. Call Harry or Dennis and ask where they are and what they're doing,” Sparrow said.

Tongue in cheek, Jack said, “Now, why didn't I think about that?”

“Probably because Cyrus isn't here to do your thinking for you,” Sparrow quipped. “Well, what are they saying?”

“They're actually outside her door. She must have gone to bed. No light shining through the magic eye or showing under the door. Dennis is going to try picking the lock, so we're going to wait to see what happens. Believe it or not, Annie taught him how to do it, and how to crack a safe. If Kitty/Clare has an alarm and she turned it on, then we're in some serious trouble. I'll keep the line open, so the minute they're in, we bang on Kelly's door, and whatever happens. Unless you have a better idea.”

“Works for me,” Sparrow said.

“So we wait.”

* * *

Less than a mile away, Harry successfully intimidated the condo building's doorman with his special gold shield. Once they were through the door, they opted for the stairwell, as opposed to taking the elevator.

“Just a minute, Dennis. I want you to check the mail room roster to see whose name is on eight-oh-nine. I think we both know Maggie is going to want to know.”

Dennis sprinted forward to look at the mail roster behind a glass frame. His index finger traced the numbers while Harry studied and committed to memory the schematic on the wall. “Okay, what I am seeing here is Abernathy slash Andreas.”

“Okay, then, let's head for the stairs to see what we can do.” They entered the stairwell and walked up to the eighth floor. “By any chance, do you know how to pick a lock, kid?”

Dennis straightened to his full height and preened for a moment. “Actually, Harry, I do know how to pick a lock. Annie showed me. She also showed me how to crack a safe. When she was satisfied that I had mastered the technique, she gave me my very own lock-picking kit. She said to always carry it, because you never know when it will come in handy.”

Harry gaped at his protégé. This kid never ceased to amaze him. “What about the alarm?”

“We didn't get that far. I know nothing about alarms. So what if it goes off? No big deal. We'll have her in hand, so we can force her to turn it off. She'll probably be half-asleep, anyway. Let's just do it!”